


A Spark

by Wiccy



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Character Study, Don’t copy to another site, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 01:24:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20201443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wiccy/pseuds/Wiccy
Summary: Inspired by the song Love Is Here to Stay by Lindsey Buckingham & Christine McVie.I honestly do not know how this fic became what it is, but I hope that it still clearly shows the inspiration I got from the feeling of the song and that you like it.





	A Spark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aurae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurae/gifts).

He'd known someone was coming, he didn't need to be connected to the Force for that. He'd simply heard them coming. When the footsteps had stopped and they neither spoke nor attempted to kill him, he assumed he'd have to turn around if he wanted to know who they were or why they were there. He turned slowly, pushing back the hood of his cloak.

The face that met his eyes was one he did not know and a crinkle of confusion began to form in the space between is eyes and then she moved. Retrieving something from inside the bag slung across her shoulders. She drew it forth and held it outstretched before her. Presenting it to him like some kind of sacred prize. The answer to all things.

He stared down at it with an intensity of emotion that might have been intended to reduce it to atoms. Before he'd realized he was even moving he held it in his hands. This... thing, this relic from his past. It was a reminder of everything he had lost, of everything he was suppose to be, of his complete and utter failure. He squeezed it, hard, the exposed metal structure of his replacement hand – the first of his losses – scraping along the silver hilt and trailing scratches in it's shine.

He wanted none of this. He wanted less than none of this. There was not enough none of this in the galaxy to cover the amount of this he wanted. He wondered idly if Obi-Wan had had to put up with this when he'd gone off into his hermitage after the fall of _his_ Order. Of course he had, because he himself had been the bright-eyed interloper then. 

He’d told her he didn’t care. Shown her through careless action. It had been a lie. It didn't matter that it was a lie he told himself every day for the last several years. Of course he cared. Caring was what had brought him here, to this island in the middle of nowhere, to his exile, to his hermitage. He cared so much it had shattered him. He cared so much that he had to cut himself off from the Force to stop… everything. Fleetingly he’d wanted to warn her about what caring and thinking you could make a difference could wrought.

She wanted to know what happened that led him to this place and this moment. He’d turned on her, his face grim and lined beyond his years.

"Failure." He'd told her, eyes boring into her, "complete and utter failure."

He'd wanted to make her understand. He'd wanted to will her away, to leave him in peace. Or at least to leave him to his solitude. Only moments after he’d set eyes on her for the first time she had already begun to awaken emotions in him that he'd spent years suppressing and trying to kill. He didn't even want to think about what would happen if she stayed longer with her idol worship and her sad, lost eyes. With her hope.

She’d told him all the things he didn't want to know. Drawing the dormant, but still living care back into the light. He’d wanted to resent her for it, to loath her naivety, to make her understand that she could not possibly understand the depths of the emotions she was speaking of. He’d wanted to, but he couldn't. He couldn't because he was Luke Skywalker and he cared. He couldn’t because he was Luke Skywalker and it was his fault. All of it. 

He’d laughed when she’d asked to be trained. It was slightly hysterical and tinged with bitterness and it seemed to almost have been ripped from his throat, but it was laughter all the same. Grief did funny things to people it would seem, and for several moments he didn't think he would be able to stop. That he had finally, mercifully, snapped. Let go of the last vestiges of his stretched too thin sanity. He was free. Then as suddenly as it had started, the laughter came to an end and left him with only the pain in his chest for comfort.

Her anger and disappointment had been palpable, a thing living nakedly in her eyes. He was sorry, but she'd wanted something from him that he thought he simply could not give. 

_"How exactly, did you think this was going to go? You came here, to the most difficult place to the find in the galaxy, to find a man who you knew wasn't lost. So what did you think was going to happen here? Did you think I was going to congratulate you on completing your magical quest? Tell you all about the joys of being a space wizard and after we'd both take off to war, face down the whole of the First Order with our laser swords and plucky attitudes?_

That should have been an end to it. That should have sent her on her way, but she was stubborn and relentless and he’d somehow found himself teaching her. Even after her power and her willingness to look into the darkness scared him beyond all capacity he still taught her. His teaching was abrupt and mean, partially meant to punish her for her hope and for making him care again, but it was teaching nonetheless.

For the first time since his banishment he’d allowed the Force to flow through him again, reached out to Leia, his sister and felt her reaching back. He couldn’t bare to shut it out again, even with the risks. Without the Force he did not feel whole and he could not carry the weight of the emptiness it left behind any longer. That reconnection had come at a cost. He’d felt the presence of Ren. He’d sought them out. He confronted them, her. Overreacted. Shock and awe. She took him to task. 

And then she was gone. She was angry that he would not join her. He was angry that she would not stay. He’d watched the tree burn, spoken with Yoda. He’d searched himself for what he knew to be true.

Fear was the way to the darkside and she had fear, but she also had hope and love to temper it. Balance. In all things. He didn’t know why he’d never seen it before, but he saw it now. Understood it. Master Yoda's knowing chuckle rang through his head and he'd smiled.

He'd known what he must do.

He breathed in and breathed out. The stone was warm with sunlight beneath him, it connected to the plants, to the water, to the universe. He could feel them at his back; his masters, his father -- all lending him courage, power and peace. He held them in the Force as he opened himself, pushed, reached out. He became one with it and then he became himself, a better version, the him he'd always meant to become before fear and doubt and failure had found him. 

He presented himself, gave comfort, made his farewells, and strode with purpose toward the final act of his destiny. He had mocked Rey with a joke about facing down the entire First Order with a lightsaber, now that was exactly what he was doing and it would be every bit as deadly as either of them might have imagined it would be, but perhaps not as futile. There was a sort of release in that knowledge, and there was a moment of clarity, of memory, of understanding -- his mind flickering to old Ben’s actions on the first Deathstar all those many years ago. 

He could not fix the mistakes of his past. He could not change what his actions had wrought. He could not save his student.

He could not do any of that, but he could save those who might. He could offer his care, his love, and himself as the price for tomorrow. He would stand before the blade; for the past, for the future, for everyone he loved, for everyone he had let down, for everyone who believed in him. It would be an honor. A sacrifice. An Ending. A beginning. A new hope.


End file.
